The Sights of Prague ... Can't Be Unseen.

Prague has been an enjoyable stay so far. We're sequestered in the 5th floor of a very old and surprisingly spacious apartment. Although there's only one bathroom. We immediately instituted a policy:

Thou shall leave the door open when the bathroom is vacant and nobody will get walked in on.

For once, Matthew was dutiful and followed the policy. He also promptly found the flaw in it.

New policy:
Matthew is under no circumstances allowed to leave the door to a bathroom open after use without an industrial exhaust fan present - or optionally, a flamethrower. 

Regardless, ventilation aside, the apartment is nice. So far I haven't gotten tired of the act of throwing open the balcony doors and strolling out with a sigh. There's a mind-blowing view of the Cityscape. A crazed juxtaposition of orange-tiled roofs and countless spires.

We're staying in an area that I believe is called SťůpidToůrisť ( I'm pretty sure that's the Czech name for it ).  As with staying in a building with approximately 10 kilometers of staircase, being positioned in the heart of SťůpidToůrisť has its ups and downs. Example: Although its on an entirely different spectrum than one of our previous stops, there's another noticeable negative aspect of human nature on display here. It's the nature that has caused a city square where an unarmed population previously stood facing down tanks, to now feature souvenir shops and hawkers in shabby costumes loudly selling tours - segway powered tours. This city seems to be stricken by a plague of segways. They must have snuck in on some shipping containers and started breeding. I will attempt to journey out of the schlockier districts later today and see some of the more authentic locales - like a strip club.

After buying my obligatory flag ( which I collect ), my aversion to the throngs of local fauna zooming by on two wheels caused me to decide to return to the apartment for a respite. I had no key, but we had left Dad behind as he also needed to complete his own obligatory behavior; dithering. Repacking, counting his socks, trimming his eyebrows ( apparently they stick out and catch on his glasses ), and other actions that make sense to him. He's going to the symphony tonight, so obviously can't be caught dead with rampant eyebrows or an incomplete underwear inventory.

I ascended the stairs to the apartment and was reminded I worked in a cubicle and lived a slovenly lifestyle. After reaching what was seemingly our door, I knocked politely. Upon no response, I knocked with slightly more force - no answer. This process continued for several minutes with increasing volume and interspersed text messages. Once my knocking had reached sustained cacophony, I was rewarded with disgruntled grumblings from inside the apartment.

The door swung open, steam billowed out, and I stood - patriotic Czech flag in hand - facing a skinny bearded man. He was dripping wet and, if not for the washcloth-sized wrap attempting to pass itself off as a towel, completely naked.

As I overcame my surprise, the terrible thought that I had picked the wrong door briefly appeared. Unfortunately, this thought gave way to greater horror when I noticed the gentleman's impeccable eyebrows.

It was, in fact, my father.

He left me stunned in the doorway and chatted jovially as he dripped his way back to the shower. I think he said something about missing a sock. I'll content myself with the knowledge that it could have been worse - Prague is called the city of a hundred spires, and if not for a single brave washcloth, I could have been exposed to the trauma of one hundred and one.